Fiddling and self-loathing (at the WRTC)
by Jules Ink
Summary: Thea Queen's life is a mess. Worse, Thea Queen is a mess. But Group Seven of the Waterhouse Residential Treatment Center is a messed up bunch of people—meaning Thea fits right in. If only her brother weren't there to talk about… stuff. (Interlude accompanying What Happened in Vegas.)


Hey, I know it's been a while, but—apparently—I'm still not done with this 'verse. This little fic's been on my mind quite some time and it took multiple tries to get it right. In the spirit of that: the biggest thank you to **Albiona** , the Duchess of Awesomeness, for being so patient with me and this story. Thank you for paying attention to the little things.

I hope you enjoy this new point of view. Happy reading. Love, Jules

 _[I do not own Arrow; I don't intent any copyright infringement. This story—and the 'verse it belongs to—is fictional and meant to entertain. It's only posted here, on Ao3, and . I'm not earning any money from it and it's not meant to be posted on side subjecting a fee.]_

* * *

 **June 4** **th** **, 2013**

Thea Queen's life was a mess.

Worse, Thea Queen was a mess.

Thea could admit that now—after six weeks of rehab and uncounted hours spent with talking to shrinks, baring the inner workings of her mind, her fears, her soul, her demons, and all that other cheesy crap. She bared all that to strangers—professional shrinking strangers as well as the strangers she shared a wooden house with at Waterhouse Residential Treatment Center.

Group Seven was a messed up bunch of people, meaning Thea fit right in.

Sitting in a comfortable gray seat, her legs pulled up, her hands fiddling, Thea's gaze wandered over the people sitting to her right. There was Angelica P., the nice, old, white-haired lady, who was addicted to meth. Because, apparently, the wisdom of the old _can_ be avoided (if you're high enough). Angelica was knitting, like she always did. It wasn't a real hobby, more like a nervous habit meant to keep her fingers busy. Thea knew the trick. She had started folding paper. Swans and flowers and all that origami-shit. It was relaxing. Thea had come to like relaxing.

Feeling the eyes of the younger woman on her, Angelica sent her an encouraging smile. Thea couldn't return it. She was too nervous, too close to freaking out to actually smile, but she could nod and show that she appreciated her rehab-acquaintance's silent comfort.

Next to Angelica sat Xavier M. He was pretty good-looking with his dark black hair and his squared jaw and his easy smile. Being nearly 35, he was way too old, of course, and also addicted to alcohol and sex. That made anybody ugly. (Plus—and that was _huge_ plus in every sense of the word—Thea was dating a wonderful guy who made her heart dance, who was sweet and caring and her non-judgmental rock with the prettiest smile. Even if Thea wasn't blind, she didn't feel the need to take a too close a look at Xavier because she was busy making heart-eyes at Roy's picture—or at Roy himself every Saturday he could come visit.)

Thea's eyes moved on to Helen H. She was a mother of four and addicted to her kids' ADHD meds. She always wore ballet-flats and pastels. Last week it had been Helen's family session. Her oldest son had told his mom and the rest of Group Seven that he never wanted friends to come over, because he knew his mom would be embarrassing—and not in the 'mom gushes about my grades and always bangs in to bring us cookies'-kind of embarrassing. It was the 'talking too fast, not making sense, and running into the door frame' version of embarrassment. That hour had been painful to live through, even as a listener on the sidelines.

Today would be worse.

Today was Thea's family session.

Today her brother was supposed to tell her every shitty thing she'd made him live through. Oliver had come here to share his feelings about Thea's addiction.

The prospect of that made Thea want to hurl. And it made her look anywhere but the seat opposite her where Oliver already sat, radiating tension, making Thea even more nervous.

Talking about his feelings wasn't exactly an Oliver Queen-specialty. Thea was putting that politely, just to be fair. She wasn't good at sharing either; she had her own issues and avoidance-techniques. Group Seven's main psychiatrist, Dr. Maria Cuddly, had pointed out some of the latter. Thea knew she was using one of them right now, avoiding looking in Oliver's general direction by placing her attention on the other five people that, next to her, formed Group Seven: on Angelica P, Xavier M., Helen H., Matthew J. (like Thea, he was addicted to any kind of recreational drug), and LaShawna D. (preferred to get high on ecstasy, but wasn't limited to it). It was better to focus on them, because Thea's heart was already beating up to her throat, nervousness was tearing at her insides, and she was afraid that meeting Ollie's eyes would make her burst with guilt and shame.

She couldn't even imagine what he must be thinking, how he must be feeling, sitting in this sunlit room, being stared at by addicts.

But he was here.

That alone made Thea's heart swell.

Oliver had made it very clear many times what his thoughts on psychiatrists were. He… didn't think much of them (or anything at all).

But he was willing to face one for his sister.

It was a realization that made Thea smile. Not right now, but a week ago when Ollie's no-nonsense voice had hit her ear through the phone connection, saying "Thea!" harshly to get her attention and stop her talking, only to continue in a softer voice, "Of course, I'll do it."

The minute before that she'd been stumbling over her words in an awkwardness Thea wasn't used to. The straight-forward question ('Would you come to rehab on Wednesday for a family session with my psychiatrist?') hadn't made it past her lips. Instead, it had been assurances that it was okay if he didn't, but her psychiatrist insisted that it was him instead of Felicity, when everybody knew that Felicity was better at talking than any other Queen, and she was sorry to ask this of him, but, apparently, the professional shrinks thought that his approval was pretty important to her—you know, the whole big brother/little sister dynamic—and it was really okay if he didn't want to do it….

She was pretty sure he didn't really want to, that he'd rather face gun-waving robbers in a burger joint.

It was that thought that made Thea finally look at her brother.

Their eyes met instantly.

He had been studying her in that calculated way of his, where one could practically see his analytic mind working. Thea knew that look well. Since he came back he had stared at her like that a lot. But today she also found a softness in his eyes, an uncertainty that gave her an unexpected wave of comfort. He was out of his element, but he was taking on this challenge. Because she'd asked him to.

Suddenly Thea realized that she hadn't _asked_ him for much in the last months. She had demanded things or thrown her temper at him. And others. She hadn't been well to begin with and Ollie not doing things she expected him to had made it worse. But when she had asked for help—not from her brother but from Felicity, his wife, her sister-in-law, her friend—she had gotten it.

 _Wow._ A breakthrough before the first word was said.

Dr. Cudley would be proud.

The psychiatrist in charge of Group Seven sat to Thea's left, a little back from her and her brother. Cudley had already explained something about baring some issues with witnesses present. Oliver's eyes had only snapped to the other five people shortly. He had accepted that with a nod, his only movement since sitting down. He was stiff, his back straight, his feet firmly rooted on the ground, his arms resting on the armrests of the squared gray seat. He looked like he needed a hug—even though Thea was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate the gesture in this situation.

"Mr. Queen," Dr. Maria Cudley cut through the silence.

"Please," he interrupted with his most charming, polite smile (it was all fake, Thea knew, his real smile was much better than _that_ ), "call me Oliver."

Dr. Cudley nodded. She was in her mid-forties, Thea guessed. Her curly black hair fell down to her shoulders and she wore the typical business attire that successful women always seemed to choose: gray tailored jacket, black pants, white blouse. Her most notable feature was her pale gray eyes. They were intense and searching. Thea always felt like they were dissecting her, seeing right through her.

That exact stare landed on Oliver and Thea had to say, his complete lack of reaction was impressive. He met the psychiatrist's eyes calmly, his posture remained stiff but he was otherwise unaffected. He was probably bluffing, but he did it really, really well. Was it okay that Thea felt strangely proud of her cool-as-a-cucumber brother?

"Oliver," the doctor repeated, "Thea didn't think you'd come and do this."

That got a reaction out of him. Surprised, his eyes snapped to his sister.

 _God. Here we go._ Thea couldn't help but shrink in her chair, pulling her legs a little closer to her body. Her Converse-covered feet were on the cushion. Beth, the head nurse in charge of the group, always chided her for putting her feet on furniture. She had even asked once if Thea's mother hadn't raised her better than that. Thea's answer had hinted that dirty cushions probably were the smallest concern when being raised by a (or an accessory to a) mass murderer. _That_ had been thoroughly discussed during Thea's next sessions with Dr. Cudley.

Thea's arms circled her legs, her fingers fumbling with each other, her eyes flinching away from Oliver's gaze. But she could feel his eyes on her. Dr. Cudley had made Thea pull her hair up so she couldn't behind its curtain. The messy bun on top of Thea's head bared her face to him. She had to swallow.

"Of course," Oliver hurried to answer. "Thea, of course. I'd do anything for you." His voice was so soft, so sincere. His eyes were glued to her, she could feel the gaze she still avoided and she knew he was telling the truth. He meant every word he said and his 'anything' included entering lethal danger for her. Instantly, tears threatened to spill. Her brother was amazing and freakishly brave while she was a stupid coward. But Thea refused to let them fall. She refused to become a crying mess (being a regular mess was bad enough already) and swallowed the tears down.

The doctor nodded, drawing her brother's attention back to her. "Thea's only here to listen today."

"Listen?" Oliver frowned. "To what?"

"To whatever you have to say to her." Dr. Cudley leaned a little forward in her chair. "Thea's addiction affected the people around her, the people who love her and whom she loves. She has to face what she did to others."

"She didn't do anything to me."

The sentence left his lips without hesitation. Warmth spread through his sister's chest, but it was instantly followed by a wash of cold. Thea knew in her heart that wasn't true. At the very least she had caused him worry—and she knew that that word probably wasn't strong enough. She swallowed again and forced herself to look at Oliver just as Dr. Cudley spoke up.

"You're her big brother. You probably feel like you have to protect her, but denying the impact her actions had, and have, on you isn't helpful for her recovery."

Oliver exhaled soundly. Ignoring the people listening, for once also ignoring Thea, he let his eyes trail through the room.

Thea liked this common room. It was the center of everything. The kitchen, the bathroom, the bedrooms of the six members of Group Seven all adjoined it. Cherry wood was all around, meeting gray and light beige and the green of uncounted plants placed everywhere.

There also was a huge TV.

Thea had seen her mother's press conference on it. She'd sat on the huge couch that was now pushed to the side to make room for this therapy session. She hadn't been able to do anything but stare at the TV, listening to her mother's words, watching her mother get handcuffed, feeling the eyes of everybody in the room on her, everybody silent and staring. When Bethany Snow (the horrible anchorwoman Thea hated because she had been mean to Felicity) had popped up on screen, Beth had rushed to her side and Dr. Cudley, but all Thea could think was, ' _I need to talk to Ollie._ '

She hadn't dared call him.

She'd called Felicity instead.

It had been a horrible day, following horrible days of detoxing and craving… something, what _ever_. It had been filled with days of shaking hands that needed to be kept busy. Despite that, she couldn't hate this room where she had gotten the news about her mother, where every Group Seven-member had an emotional explosion of some kind, where Thea spent hours folding paper swans, sharing a companionable silence with Angelica P. as she knit scarves and Helen H. as she wrote letters to her kids.

Thea understood a lot of things about her mother better now. Felicity had told Thea that her mother had tried so hard to stop the Undertaking. Ultimately, Moira Queen had even been willing to face all possible consequences to save others. It was something, a start. Thea could appreciate that, because she had found out herself that you make mistakes and all you can do is live with the results and learn from them, try to be better.

The day of the Undertaking had been a weird day for Thea. She couldn't even imagine what that day had been like for Oliver, who was still evading everybody's eyes (which was probably hardest when it came to LaShawna's. The woman in her early forties was unashamedly checking him out). Thea watched her brother closely and once again couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about, if he, too, was reliving the day of the Undertaking. The Hood had confronted Malcolm Merlyn, had killed him with an arrow in his neck. (Merlyn had been buried anonymously in one of Starling City's cemeteries, nowhere near his wife—which Felicity said probably hurts the man the most when he looks up from the worst place of hell.) Thea couldn't help but wonder if Oliver, sitting in the sunlit room in his sister's rehab home, was thinking about that or about the very personal loss Thea knew left a hole unable to be filled.

Ollie's uneasy eyes bounced through the room, his cucumber-cool slipping. Which meant Thea needed to step up, needed to break her silence and give him a push. He was here, she was here, they had to do it, even if it sucked. (And it would suck. So. _Bad_.) She was ready to face the things he needed to get off his chest. Maybe he could let go of some of his anger. He was so angry so often—not just at her.

"Please, Ollie," Thea said. Her voice sounded as small as she felt, but it got his attention. He looked at her. "I know you wanted to say some things to me, but Felicity told you to be nice. Just say them, I can take it. I've had enough of lies and secrets between us."

He cleared his throat. His voice softer than she remembered ever hearing it, he said, "I don't want any lies between us either." He met her eyes. "Or secrets. Any secret."

A spark raced through Thea. Her fingers stilled their restless movement as the deeper meaning of his words sunk in: he was okay with her knowing his secret (singular, meaning the big SECRET). He was okay with it. They hadn't talked about it yet. They hadn't been alone, or alone with Felicity. On visitation Saturdays either Roy or Walter had always been there. Thea hadn't realized how right Dr. Cudley has been, how much she needed her brother's approval, his okay. Relief flooded her.

It must have shown on her face, because she saw the corner of Oliver's mouth tick upward. He relaxed the barest bit and looked at the shrink as if to say: this is your show, lead the way.

Dr. Cudley obliged and said, "So, Oliver. You wanted to say some things to Thea?"

"That was before." His tone was dismissive as he looked at the psychiatrist. Her brother and she shared the same avoidance techniques, Thea realized. Ollie was focusing on anybody but his sister. Maybe it was a Queen-thing. Sharing emotions and keeping up appearances rarely went together.

Dr. Cudley watched him closely. "Before what?"

"Before I knew that she wasn't just being… stupid. Before I knew how serious her condition is."

"What did you think back then?"

Oliver hesitated but gave himself a visible push to continue speaking. "I thought she was a moody teenager, getting drunk, being reckless. That she was being a brat, living off our family's money, being entitled and careless."

A hot burning sensation started in Thea's chest and crept higher while a stifled laugh came from the row of spectators. Thea didn't have to look to know who made it. Matthew J. (Thea was sure the J. was short for jerk) had made his opinion on Thea 'trust fund baby' Queen very clear many times. It matched Ollie's description perfectly. A soft "ouch" followed the suppressed sound. Thea guessed LaShawna had elbowed Matt. She had called Matt out before and accused him of being "jealous," because Thea could afford to get high without selling family heirlooms.

LaShawna's supportive reaction was nice—and Ollie's, too. Her brother glared at Matt with narrowed eyes, calculating and threatening at the same time. It was an intimidating glare, making Matt the jerk shrink in his seat. But this unspoken support didn't take any of the stinging away. Matt's amused huff heightened the shame in Thea. She felt caught, guilty, and hurt that Ollie had thought of her that way—in the same way strangers like Matthew Jerk did. Her left hand tugged on her right index finger.

"Why did you think that?" Dr. Cudley asked, bringing Oliver's attention back to her.

"Because I was like that," Ollie answered instantly. The sentence rang strange in his little sister's ears. In her memory he had never been like her.

Dr. Cudley motioned to her right. "Don't tell me. Tell Thea."

"How's that helpful?" Oliver said, defensively. "The fact that I was a jackass doesn't relate to her."

"It does. It helps because it explains how you felt and reacted to Thea. Just tell her how you felt."

Reluctance clouded around Oliver. The dissecting glance of the shrink probably didn't help things and the five staring strangers intently following the whole exchange made it even worse. Thea felt horrible. He was facing all this for her, because of her.

"You were never a jackass." The sentence left Thea's lips without much thought. Because it was the truth and because it needed to be said, apparently.

"Thea," Dr. Cudley warned. "You're here to listen."

"I don't have to listen to him putting himself down," Thea snapped, anger collecting inside her. She could deal with Ollie accusing _her_ of being stupid. It was the truth. But this, this was wrong, Ollie had it all _wrong_.

Oliver had to wipe a smirk off his face. His eyes lingered on her for another second, then he visibly relaxed even more in his seat. "Fine," he said, sounding calmer. "Before I… went away, I wasn't a good person. I was all about having fun and easy living. Alcohol and drugs were a part of that. I did it for the heck of it. It was a method to partying. I thought Thea was like that, too. I didn't really think she was addicted. I was convinced that she needed discipline, someone shaking some sense into her."

"But you never did that?" Dr. Cludley asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"My wife told me not to."

"Oh," the doctor seemed amused. "And you listen to your wife?"

"Of course. She's the brains in our relationship."

"That's true." Thea couldn't help but smile. Only talking about Felicity could give her brother a little lightness in such a heavy situation. In the past month, since she'd been sober, Thea had really come to realize how different he was with Felicity, how natural, bantering without second-guessing his words or reactions. Felicity made Oliver better. Thea knew what that felt like, because Felicity had become the person Thea knew she could always turn to in times of trouble. Meeting the man Oliver had become, she now knew that he was a person she could lean on, too. That thought let her add a wink to the smile directed at Ollie. "At least, he's smart enough to realize that."

"Very nice," Oliver complimented flatly, a smile playing around his lips.

It _was_ very nice. This teasing. It was calming, which was good, because Thea needed calm. An emotional tide was rising inside her. As happy as his happiness with Felicity made her, it wasn't really the main thing on her mind. Hearing Oliver's description of his younger self was unexpected. It wasn't how Thea remembered him at all. She remembered a guy who smiled a lot, who poked fun at her for liking Zack Efron but still took her to see High School Musical, who comforted her after she didn't get a Valentine's card from the cutest guy in class. Okay, she also remembered her parents picking him from the police station—multiple times. She remembered crashed cars and stories she heard the adults talk about in hushed tones. But he had never been like that to her. He had been funny and caring and patient and just a good brother. Thea's left thumb started gnawing at the skin next to her right thumbnail.

Dr. Cudley brought the conversation back on track. "When did you realize that Thea needed more than discipline?"

"There were a few moments, but I think I couldn't deny it anymore when…." Oliver trailed off, he thought for a second and finally said, softly, "Jonas' birthday."

His answer was like ice water to Thea. Her breath hitched in her throat. The burning sensation was back, stronger than before. Thank God, this time the rest of Group Seven said nothing, even if Thea could feel their combined eyes burn into the side of her face. Thea turned her head away, fixating the wooden floor. The others probably (luckily? Hopefully!) didn't grasp the magnitude of what Ollie had just said. In fact, it was the worst thing he could have said. The absolute _worst_.

And Ollie was still talking, addressing her directly. "It was the middle of the day and you were on something. You were smacking your gum and wiggling your leg the whole time and your eyes were just pupils."

The softness of his voice didn't limit the stinging of his words at all. "You noticed?" Thea's question was little more than a breath of air.

"Yes."

"Felicity, too?" Thea didn't dare take her eyes of the floor.

"Yes."

Thea's eyes watered once more. She blew out a shaky breath. Her fingernail scratched over her skin, digging in while she tried to recall that day. It was a little blurry to her, yes, but she remembered finding her family in the sitting room, obviously sharing a moment without her. She remembered feeling left out and hurt—and then she remembered the realization that this wasn't about her. In her memory, that day—despite its sadness—was a good one. They—she, her mom, Ollie, Felicity—had spent time together and talked, really been a family. Sure, she had been high, sure that had highlighted her positive emotions more than the negative ones (because coke always made Thea happy), but that hadn't taken away from the positives—until now. Now that day seem vastly different.

Dr. Cudley's soft voice cut through her self-loathing. "Thea, tell us: what are you thinking?"

"I thought I was here to listen," Thea snapped, defensively. She didn't want to talk about it. She had nothing to say for herself. She sucked. Period.

"Thea—" Ollie started, but stopped. Thea could practically feel the sharp look Dr. Cudley sent him. Thea couldn't blame the guy who'd confronted criminals with arrows for falling quiet instantly. Those gray eyes could send lethal looks.

The psychiatrist spoke calmly, comfortingly. "I see that you are struggling with this information and I feel like it's better to address that right now, with your brother present," she explained, like she always explained her reasoning. It worked, Thea knew that from experience. "Thea," Dr. Cudley urged gently, "please, look at me."

Hesitatingly, Thea took her eyes of the floor but didn't face the doctor directly. Playing for time, for a moment longer to get a grip, she gazed at the other group-members—and found nothing but encouragement there. There wasn't pity in the eyes of the others. Especially Helen, who had made it through her own family session, looked at her with compassion. Xavier gave her a small nod. It meant 'you can do this,' Thea knew. He had sent her off to the damn horse during the stupid outdoor trust building lesson with that exact nod. (Thea Queen was probably the only daughter of one percenters who hated horses. She was terrified of them since falling off one and breaking her arm—plus: they smelled.) Even Matthew Jerk didn't glare at her. Sitting low in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest, he stared past her at the wall, which was the best version of non-judgmental he could offer. Angelica—the grandmother-figure Thea never had in her life, even if this one was a messed up version—gave her a smile.

Finally, Thea dared to look at Dr. Cudley. The shrink studied her patient closely and asked, "How do you feel about what Oliver said?

"That…." Thea scratched at her cuticle, forcing herself to answer. "That was an important day. It was a… hard day for Felicity and Ollie, and I made it even more difficult when I thought I was there for them."

"You were," Oliver hurried to say, urgency in his voice. Thea dared to glance at him, finding his face softened by emotions and an unfamiliar blush on his cheeks, as he emphasized, "You were there for us."

"But she was high," the psychiatrist stated in a calm voice, cutting in the gaze shared between the siblings.

Dr. Cudley wasn't judging, only observing. She was stating the absolute truth. Even if Oliver was nice enough not to confirm it vocally.

Thea longed to apologize, to beg for her brother's forgiveness, to promise to apologize to Felicity, too. But her tongue was weighed down by the tears pooling in her eyes. They were closer to spilling than ever before and Thea fought harder than ever before not to let them fall. Her mouth was locked by the knowledge that a simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cut it. What could make up for adding stress to an already stressful day? Pain to the worst kind of pain imaginable? Thea couldn't think of anything that would be good enough.

"Oliver, did you confront your sister about that?" Dr. Cudley asked, bringing the family session back on track.

"No, I made a mistake then. I thought it was better to keep my distance."

"How do you feel about that choice now?"

"I feel guilty."

"We've talked about that," Dr. Cudley said, addressing Thea. "Very often relatives, loved-ones, feel responsible." She focused back on Oliver. "But your actions didn't turn your sister into an addict. That was all her doing. There isn't any need for you to feel guilty, because it only leads to Thea feeling guilty and acting out of guilt rarely helps."

That statement was for Ollie as much as it was for her, Thea knew. She also saw an expression that looked somewhat like disbelief on her brother's face. Silence settled over them and it was clear that Oliver didn't feel like reacting to anything that had just been said.

Instead, the psychiatrist moved the conversation along. "Thea told me that you were there during her lowest point. Tell us about that. What was that like for you?"

"She yelled at me that I wasn't real, because I was supposed to be dead." The sentence practically fell from Oliver's lips, then in the next moment he looked angry with himself for letting it slip.

But Thea didn't really notice his expression. His words rang in her ears like a dreadful echo and it froze her to her seat. Her fingers stopped. "I did?" Thea gasped. "I don't remember that." Her eyes jumped to Dr. Cudley and back to her brother. "I really don't." As if it excused anything, she added, "I don't remember much from that night."

"That's probably for the better," Oliver said.

"No," Dr. Cudley's voice was strict, "it's not. That night was a turning point. For her. But obviously it also was a traumatic experience for you. Thea needs to know."

Ollie took another steadying breath. He didn't meet her eyes, but for once Thea couldn't look away from him while he talked. "She was really scared that night, trapped in her head. The clock scared her. She talked about time ticking away. That was the part that made sense, because before she was hailing the monkey king." He added, "It was Curious George clock."

Snickering came from Matthew Jerk (of course, the jackass!), but it was stifled instantaneously, ending in a wince. (Thea needed to thank LaShawna later for the effective use of her elbow.) This time, Dr. Cudley glared at him, too. A huff followed this wordless chiding.

The two Queens ignored the intermission. Thea couldn't take her eyes off her brother, noticing the soft blush on his cheeks deepen slightly. He looked apologetic. Thea sensed a silent 'I'm sorry' for letting the stuff about her ultimate breakdown slip. It increased the guilt collecting inside Thea even more. The last thing she deserved was an apology.

Dr. Cudley brought Oliver's attention back to her by asking, "Did her actions scare you?"

Oliver thought about that before he focused back on Thea. "No. I wasn't scared. She was scared of me. I was worried. I wanted to find a way to calm her down."

"But she told you that you were supposed to be dead."

"She did." Oliver confirmed, ignoring the sounds of ruffling from the row of observers. The information made the two male group-members shift in their seats. Their reaction reminded Thea of the non-disclosure thing everybody had to sign. It was a good reminder, because the stuff discussed wasn't only very personal, embarrassing, and painful but also perfect Queen-gossip worth a nice sum of money. And right in that second Thea couldn't worry about Matthew Jerk selling her secrets. She needed all her strength not to fall apart because of Ollie's words.

"How did that make you feel?" Dr. Cudley asked while Thea was once more busy trying to swallow down a throat full of tears, fearing her brother's answer.

Oliver looked ready to roll his eyes. "I've heard worse."

"You have?"

"I have," Oliver confirmed, his voice even. "Much worse."

"By me." The broken whisper slipped from Thea's lips, ending her struggles to keep it together—her resolve shattered. The tears she had held at bay finally squeezed down her cheeks. For the first time in six weeks she was crying in rehab, letting go in front of the others. "I've said worse things," she admitted, her voice breaking with the regret filling her. "I told him that he sucked and might as well have stayed dead."

"I wasn't talking about you, Thea," Oliver hurried to stress. His voice was gentle and sincere.

"I didn't—"

"Thea," Dr. Cudley interrupted, "you're here to listen, remember? This is not about you getting things off your chest. This about you hearing Oliver's side, as hard as it might be. We'll work through your side later."

"You wanted me to talk before," Thea challenged, continuing more desperately, her voice hoarse, "and he needs to know that I didn't mean it." More tears spilled out of her eyes. She needed him to believe her. Because she didn't mean it. She really, _really_ didn't. "I love you." Had she even told him that since he'd returned? She hadn't, had she? Why hadn't she? The tears trailing down her cheeks vibrated in her voice. "I love you," she repeated. "I'm glad you're back. The day I heard they found you on that island was the happiest day of my life. I was just angry that night, frustrated. I took it out on you and that was wrong. I'm sorry."

Ignoring the shrink and whatever her plan for this soul-baring-session was, too, Oliver met his sister's reddening eyes. As if he hadn't noticed the people around him reacting to the word 'island,' he stressed in gentle urgency, "I know, Thea." Maybe he saw the caught look on his sister's face, recognized the anger at herself for letting a hint at the island slip. Maybe, he was referring to all her slip-ups past and present when he said, leaning toward her. "I know you didn't mean it."

"But hearing that must've been hurtful."

That stupid shrink with her poking wounds, always digging deeper! In an angry gesture Thea wiped her nose with her sleeve, because—God, wasn't it enough?! Couldn't Cudley spare them, spare _him_ from all that.

Oliver's eyes stayed on his sister. Yet again uneasy hesitation surrounded him, but yet again he visibly pushed himself to say something, to ignore everybody else. "It did hurt," he admitted, sending an emotional jab through Thea's chest, but it vanished when he continued, "But I've had time to think about it—especially after the night Thea ate the flower, and in the last few weeks…." He exhaled measuredly, addressing Dr. Cudley. "I've come to realize that I've kept my distance from my sister; I've kept things from her. Because of that I've not been as available to her as I should've been, as she needed me to be. I prevented us from getting as close as we were before I left and I think, maybe, in some way it might've felt to her like I was still dead. So, I cannot really hold Thea saying that against her—and I never would."

A sudden and unexpected surge of affection rushed through Thea. That lovable, soft-heartened mountain of muscles and jujitsu or whatever. He had really thought about that. He had looked back, analyzed it, and he said things that… Thea had felt, but dismissed in the last weeks, because she had done her own looking back and analyzing.

"Ollie," she said, pointedly ignoring Dr. Cudley. "I was a mess before you came back. Nothing you did turned me into an addict. It was me taking the easiest way out, numbing stuff."

A somewhat proud smile showed on the psychiatrist's face. She gestured at Thea, looking at Oliver. "Your sister is right. As I said before, relatives often blame themselves, seek the fault in their own actions. But it is important that Thea takes responsibility for what she did. It was her doing."

"I—" Oliver stopped, swallowed, opened his mouth, closed it again.

"I have a question, Oliver," Dr. Cudley said, tipping her head and sounding honestly intrigued. "When you look at Thea, what do you see?"

He frowned, thinking. "What do you mean? I see my sister."

"Describe her to me."

"She's a young girl who's lost?" It sounded like a question.

A smile popped up on the psychiatrist's face that rubbed Thea the wrong way. "A young girl?" Dr. Cudley repeated. "Thea was a young girl six years ago. But she's a young woman now. She's eighteen. Grown up."

"I know," he said defensively.

"Do you?"

Oliver didn't answer. He glanced away from his sister and her psychiatrist quickly and at the other group members. LaShawna straightened up immediately, adding a smile that was totally inappropriate. Thea kept from chiding her with a particularly pointy glare. A dim voice in the back of Thea's mind whispered that Dr. Cudley probably really had a point. The siblings had lost years, lost the possibilities to make memories together, to grow up around each other, and share experiences. Instead, he had experienced things she couldn't even begin to imagine. He had turned into a fighter, into a hero that saved people. He had saved her and Roy and Felicity and all those people at Big Belly Burger and a lot of others, more than she knew about. It had taken her months to really see him for who he was. It had somehow only clicked when he stood in a dark Big Belly Burger, wearing his costume and his quiver, standing over two robbers he had taken out without much ado. And only now did she understand that she had to think of that side of Ollie, too, when she thought about her brother. Even if it was a side he had tried to keep from her.

"We can work on that," Thea offered, following her line of thought to the only solution. "Getting to know each other."

Oliver's attention settled back on her. "Yes." His face softened. "I'd like that."

The Queen siblings shared a small smile. Thea let go of her legs, opened her knees and crossed her legs.

"Let's get back to Thea's behavior during the past year," Dr. Cudley, always the unrelenting shrink, said. "Thea shared that, despite your obvious disappointment, you were supportive in some ways. You picked her up after she'd been arrested?"

"Yes." Oliver confirmed shortly, saying nothing more—and Thea secretly enjoyed him not fully cooperating, because his dismissal was directed at the shrink, not at her. She also realized that her arrest was the only thing discussed so far that didn't make her long to hide. Everybody in this room (excluding the psychiatrist. … Most likely—probably—Thea wasn't sure) had been arrested. That was proven by the complete lack of reactions from her group members.

Dr. Cudley remained unfazed by Oliver's short answer. "And you picked her up from school?"

"Yes."

"Why? You told us before that you thought your sister acted like a brat."

"Because she's my sister," he stated calmly but firmly. "Because I love her. I'm always there when she needs me. Always. And nothing she does will ever change that." His eyes drilled into Thea who smiled, knowing everything this sentence meant. That made that statement even better, though it was pretty awesome to begin with. (Thea could feel the unspoken 'Awwwww' coming from her female rehab-acquaintances.) Thea's small smile grew.

It died with Dr. Cudley her next question. "So, you feel obligated to be there for her? Because she's your sister?"

"Yes." Oliver faltered. "No. I mean…." He pressed his lips together, annoyed.

"Which one is it?"

Thea glared at the black-haired woman. What was she doing? They weren't here to dig into Ollie's mind (even though Thea was pretty sure that a guy like her brother with his history and everything probably was like crack to psychiatrists). Thea was about to tell the shrink to back _the fuck_ off, but Oliver found his voice again before she could.

"Thea's my little sister and I feel responsible for her," he stated. "But it's not a burden, it's my choice. I want to be there for her. She's one of the most important people in my life."

Again, tears collected in Thea's eyes, but this time their origin was happiness, joy, thankfulness. She smiled a watery, happy smile and nodded in positive confirmation and silent gratitude, uncaring about the watching eyes and her inability to return to her non-crying vow. Oliver smiled, too.

"You said that you want to get to know Thea better." Dr. Cudley stated, her tone making it clear that the statement included a question that needed to be answered.

Ollie could've done that with another short and simply 'yes.' But this time he felt like saying more, surprising his sister in the best way. "I do," he stressed. "After I came back, I was… in my own… strange mindset. But that's over now. And I'd like to start over."

"Starting over as in forgetting what has been?"

"No," Oliver answered, the annoyance he was feeling at the doctor's questions creeping into that one word. "It means getting to know each other without blind spots. I said I realized that I kept her at arm's length. I'm done with that."

Thea swallowed against the happy tears still falling. "You're letting me in on that honesty vow you have with Felicity?"

A huff escaped Oliver. "Yeah. I've learned that really works."

"Thank you, Oliver." Dr. Cudley said, cutting through the positive moment. "For taking the time to come today and for being so honest." The signal that the session was about to end brought movement back to the other members of Group Seven. They straightened up, getting ready to get out of their seats (and in Xavier and LaShawna's case into the kitchen since it was their turn to cook). But the shrink's next sentence made them slump down again. "One last question: have you and your family considered possible living arrangements when Thea's time with us ends?"

"Yes, we have." Oliver's voice turned surer, sounding more in charge than it had since the meeting started. He looked at Thea. "You can come live with Felicity and me, if you want. We'd love to have you. But Walter's also back in Starling and you're welcome to stay with him, too. Your choice, whatever feels best to you. We also talked to the judge. Since Laurel and Tommy moved to Coast City, he's willing to sign over guardianship to Walter or Felicity or… me. Again, your choice. You still have 300 hours of community service left. The judge's not willing to reduce that. We tried. Sorry."

Thea nodded, slowly. "That's okay." Really, it was. She had spent weeks recounting the last year and especially the last months and she found that, "I want to do the hours. Do you think I could do them somewhere other than CNRI? I'd love to do something more hands on… in the Glades? Roy said you're rebuilding the free clinic in honor of Felicity's friend?"

"Tha—" Oliver had to swallow as his voice cracked. He inhaled audibly and tried again, "That's a nice idea. It'll mean a lot to Felicity. The clinic is her… project." The last word came with an intensity Thea didn't fully grasp, but Oliver was already back at the main topic, "I'll ask the judge, if you want me to."

"Yes, please." She nodded, thankful, the tears drying on her cheeks. "I guess I'll have to do that after school."

The visible relief flooding Oliver nearly made Thea laugh. He had obviously dreaded this topic, but it was part of the resolution she had made. Every patient at Waterhouse Residential Treatment Center had to set a personal goal. Thea's ultimate goal was to get her shit together and her life on track, to stay sober. But that was true for basically everybody in rehab. Dr. Cudley had asked her for one thing, something specific, something that could be achieved in a foreseeable timeframe. And that one thing had been school: to graduate and figure out what to do afterward. It was her resolution and she would stick to it.

Her brother smirked, the teasing lightness returning. "Felicity's already offered math tutoring."

"Good, I'll need it." God, she would need it so badly.

"That's very good," Dr. Cudley complimented. "Having a solid plan is good, it's something to cling to during the first months after her return." She smiled. "There're still things to figure out, especially with your mother awaiting trial in jail and with the public attention Thea will be subjected to, but we can discuss that in the next weeks as we really prepare for Thea's return." She sent him a smile. "Again, thank you, Oliver. It really was an enlightening session." The psychiatrist halted only for one second, before she continued, "On a completely unrelated note: I think you could benefit from counseling yourself. It seems like you haven't fully worked through your time away."

A snort escaped Thea before she could stop it. She might not know her brother as well as she wished to (yet), but she knew one thing: Oliver 'The Hood' Queen seeing a shrink? Never happening.


End file.
